Lie
by planet p
Summary: Story Repost! Julie’s POV -- Julie tries to forget Zach. Julie/Andrew


**Lie** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _Desperate Housewives_ or any of its characters.

* * *

His lips trembled against her kiss. Her stomach cart wheeled uncomfortably. She lay back and waited for him.

She felt numb and sick.

The ceiling seemed almost too close as she stared up at it and tried to forget. She imagined that she couldn't breathe.

The numbness cleared enough for some sort of thought. Her eyes jumped to his. Watching him, she thought that he was scared. "Lie with me," she said, and reached her arms out for him.

She watched as he lay down beside her and put her arms down.

She shifted to her side so that she could see into his eyes. She stared into those eyes and found nothing. There was nothing.

She felt cheated and upset. She had thought that there would be something, something to love in there, something to help her forget.

She imagined sitting and leaving the room, no words of departure. "Kiss me," she said.

He kissed her, his lips against hers, but all she felt was the distance between them, the distance between their bodies.

She pushed herself to reach out and slip a hand under his shirt and onto his back. His skin was hot and shivered with the touch.

She rolled onto her back and he fell on top of her, it seemed.

This was the closest they had been. Their clothes got in the way, she thought blandly. She wanted to feel his skin pressed to hers, and that was not a bland thought.

The kissing was slow and unexciting. She imagined it as effective as insect repellent.

"Stop," she said, and to her ears it sounded harsh, bored but harsh.

He stopped.

She didn't push him off her. She waited for him to allow her room. "I don't feel good," she told him straight.

He frowned.

"Make me feel good," she clarified, having sat, and now turned to face him flatly. "Close your eyes," she said. "Close them."

He closed his eyes.

She touched his hands, felt his hands with her own hands. She could make herself feel good with her own hands. She needed to know his hands like they were her hands.

She closed her eyes. For a long time, holding his hands, feeling them.

When she opened them again, she felt different. He was watching her.

He wrapped her in his arms and felt her heart next to him. She didn't move.

She seemed to sit like that for a long time until he moved his hands. Two hands moved down her back and she felt herself pulled onto his lap with an abrupt awkwardness.

His breath felt hot and irregular on her neck. She no longer felt as certain as she should, of her own body.

His heart hurt, pressed so near to hers, and hammering like that, but she could not think of his heart.

Every breath brought them closer together, and further apart.

She needed to breathe, and it was as she was trying to remember this, that she realized that it was not just breathing, and her hands wanted to keep him this close, and his her, and a rhythm had sprung up between them, a rhythm that made it hard for her to breathe or remember.

The rhythm went on, and somehow, they worked around it, but did not break it; they could never break it.

She couldn't breathe, she could hear that, and it made her smile, and she was breathing. She needed to breathe, she wanted to breathe; she wanted it to be like this.

Breathing had never been this good before, she thought excitedly.

* * *

Julie sat and didn't move. Her mother sat beside her, and four other women around the table.

She thought of Zach, and then because she didn't want to think about Zach, she peered across the table at Bree.

Andrew didn't like girls like boys were supposed to. For her part, Julie had thought it better that way. He wasn't attracted to her, and neither she to him. She had made it clear why she had wanted to do it, and that was to forget a boy who had hurt her. She had told him, that whilst she might care for him, she would never love him in the way that two people who were in love did. She was so sick of love.

She found herself comparing Bree and her son for similarities, and when she caught herself, she promptly stopped.

* * *

_Repost, from 2008, really bad =(_


End file.
